A Different Way of Growing Up
by CopperKitten
Summary: Short stories about Remus as he grew up with a "different" life
1. Watching the Stars

**Watching the Stars—Four Years Old**

****Disclaimer: I own nothing remotely related to Harry Potter. All belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling.****

The door slammed shut with a resounding bang as Lyall stormed into the house. Remus looked up from his multi-colored building blocks strewn about the living room, and Hope bustled out of the kitchen, surprise and worry etched on her face.

"What's wrong, dear?" she asked, pulling her husband into a swift embrace.

"I'm on probation," Lyall muttered angrily and stomped into the kitchen, Hope close on his heels. Remus stood up and followed, pressing his ear against the door to investigate why his father was so uncharacteristically tense.

". . . what happened at work?" came his mother's voice, slightly muffled due to the door.

"Apparently, I've been suspended for 'accusing an innocent Muggle.'"

"Is this about that man who was charged for killing those Muggle children?"

"Yes. They brought him in for questioning . . . ."

Remus pulled away with a disappointed sigh. They were just talking about silly grown-up stuff, like work. He trudged back and plopped down amongst his brightly colored blocks. With an enthusiastic grin, he began to build a tower.

He happily giggled as each block changed color at his touch. He lunged for a brilliantly blue block, which changed to a deep hue of red as he placed it on the base. Then, he snatched up a bright yellow block, but wound up holding a lime green one. He continued in this fashion for a while, staring in childish awe each time a block changed, and squealed in delight when, as he reached out to steady his tower, all the colors flashed and switched simultaneously.

Once the tower had attained a considerable height, a mischievous smile began to play on Remus' lips. With an almost apprehensive look towards the (still shut) kitchen door, he reached out, grabbed the bottom block—which flashed from light brown to a bright pink—and yanked back, hard. All the blocks came tumbling down and ricocheted off the floor, almost as if they were made of rubber.

Remus squealed, elated, as the bright objects scattered haphazardly across the sitting room. Clapping boisterously, he watched as the blocks slowly lost momentum and settled to the ground, bright jewels dotting a desert of sand. He began crawling around, still chuckling happily, and gathering up the blocks, trying to stifle any more loud outbursts as the blocks changed color in his grasp.

He glanced up when he heard the kitchen door open, still reaching for a yellow block and silently debating whether it would turn green or blue. His arm froze, however, when he saw the look on his father's face. Lyall was still furious, but something else had mixed into his features: intense fear. And the concoction was anything but pleasant. He let out a small sigh of relief when he saw Remus, but his face quickly hardened again as he ordered, "Remus, go to bed. Now."

"But, but we haven't even had supper yet!" Remus whined, dropping his arm like an anchor to the ground.

"I don't care. Go to bed," his father barked, setting his jaw angrily.

"No!" Remus nearly yelled, throwing the blocks down. He stood up and crossed his arms defiantly, unaware of the jumping projectiles, or the fact that the nearest ones had started smoking dangerously.

Lyall growled in annoyance. "Remus. You don't want to do this with me right now . . . ."

The boy continued to glare, lower lip pouting oh-so provocatively.

"Fine!" his father snapped, after minutes of thick, intense silence. "But right after supper, you're going straight to bed!"

"Fine!" Remus replied huffily just as a bright green block caught on fire.

"And stop setting your bloody blocks on fire!" Lyall said, pulling out his wand and extinguishing the flame. Remus flinched.

"Lyall! Language!" Hope's voice reprimanded from the kitchen in astonishment. Her grumbling faded as she returned to the stove to finish cooking.

Supper passed in stony silence. Remus picked at his food, slightly miffed by the worried state of his parents. They were continuously glancing at the windows and door as if expecting someone to come crashing in. He stabbed moodily at his peas. Why did his parents have to act so strange today?

The second Remus took his last bite, his father stood up abruptly. "Time for bed, I believe," he said. Most of his anger had disappeared over the course of supper, and a kind of panic had slowly slithered into its spot.

Lyall led his son out of the dining room to his bedroom. Remus, however, bolted straight past the bed and instead clambered onto the windowsill, staring out at the stars that were just appearing.

"Daddy, help me find the patterns," he said eagerly, eyes locked on the twinkling night sky.

"Remus, I said bed. We're not stargazing tonight," his father said in a voice that bode no argument.

With a dejected sigh, Remus crawled off the windowsill. As he leaped into bed, he recalled something curious. "Why is the moon so big tonight?"

Remus was too busy situating himself under the mountains of comforter to notice how his father tensed at the question.

"Never you mind," he answered with forced calmness, throwing a frenzied look out the window. "I'll tell you another day. For now, you need to get to sleep. Good night, Remus."

Lyall took a few steps back, but instead of leaving the room, he conjured up a chair and sat down.

"What are you doing, Daddy?"

"Making sure you actually go to sleep. I don't want you getting out of this bed."

"I won't get out of bed," Remus said innocently, crossing his fingers tightly under the sheets. "I promise." Lyall, however, made no intention to leave. "Well, if you're gonna stay in here," Remus added, a look of hope on his face, "will you read me a bedtime story?"

"No, Remus, I-"

"Why not?" Remus cried, all happiness gone. "First, you make me go to bed early! Then, you tell me I can't look at the stars! Why can't you read me a story?"

"Remus, listen, you-"

"I want a story!" Remus shouted, falling instinctively into one of his classic tantrums.

Lyall opened his mouth to argue, but before he could utter a single word, the chair disappeared from beneath him. He picked himself up immediately and dusted himself off, huffing as he rose and cursing quietly under his breath.

"Stop doing that! You know what? Fine! I'll read you a story! But afterwards, you are to go straight to sleep, got it?"

"Thanks, Daddy," Remus replied, calm once again, as he settled more comfortably in his bed.

His father rolled his eyes and muttered something that vaguely sounded like "bloody children." He created another chair and settled down, before summoning an old, timeworn copy of _Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump._

Once the story was finished, Lyall flicked his wand and the book disappeared.

"Can you read the one about the three brothers now?" Remus asked excitedly, eyes wide and staring hopefully at his father.

"No, Remus. I said one story, and you got it. Go to sleep now."

"But Daddy-"

"No. Go to sleep."

Remus sighed. He recognized when his influences were wearing off. "Fine," he mumbled, rolling over and staring out the window. He imagined a few of the twinkling stars beckoning him closer.

"Don't even think about getting out of this bed," Lyall muttered as if in response to Remus' thoughts.

Remus glared mutinously out at the bright, happy stars. An intricate plan began forming in his head. Would it work? It was worth a shot . . . .

"OK, Daddy," he said in a voice nearly inaudible with exhaustion. He quickly shut his eyes and slowed his breathing. He shifted slightly and pulled the blankets more tightly around him, mumbling quietly as if he was drifting into a deep sleep.

He continued to feign sleep for nearly five minutes before his father finally fell. Remus heard a slight creak from the chair as he stood up, and heard the faint rustles of his robes as he disposed of it. A blossom of warmth covered his temple for a fleeting moment, and his father moved towards the door.

"Stay safe," Lyall whispered into the darkness before the door quietly clicked shut.

A smirk spread on Remus' face. He had done it. He had managed to trick his father into leaving. He rolled over and peered through half-closed eyelids, double-checking to make sure the room was empty.

Once he was positive he was alone, Remus leapt out of bed enthusiastically and dashed to his window. Clambering up onto his windowsill, he saw the multitude of stars winking at him, calling him to join them.

With a quick look around the room (he was still worried his father was hiding in the shadows) Remus carefully reached out and undid the latch, pushing the window out as wide as it would go. The cool night air tickled his face as his eyes dreamily roamed over the sky. Stars twinkled in every direction, but Remus couldn't see any of the patterns his father usually pointed out to him. Only the brilliant white luminescence of the full moon caught his eye.

He let his gaze drop to the small forest outside his house. The trees stood tall and foreboding, like jagged black teeth, obscuring part of the night sky. The forest was a deep, consuming darkness, all traces of light swallowed up by the leaves above. His eyes probed intently through the void, but the only things that could be seen amid the trees were two pinpricks of yellow light.

Remus stiffened and leaned forward out the window in wonder. His mind strained to connect with what he was seeing. He had just determined the yellow lights were glowing eyes and hadn't even enough time to be concerned before the beast jolted out into the moonlight and came charging towards the house.

With a small gasp of surprise, Remus scrambled backwards and pulled the window shut. He tried to redo the latch with shaky hands, but terror overwhelmed him when he saw the huge, wolf-like creature barreling straight for him. Suppressing a scream, he leapt off the windowsill and soared through the air back onto his bed, pulling the blankets tight over his head.

The sound of shattering glass pierced his ears, but before he could even react, the blankets were violently torn off of him.

This time, Remus did scream. The last thing he saw was a flash of bloody mangled fur and teeth before the wolf sunk its sharp fangs into his shoulder. After that he could focus on nothing but the intense, piercing, burning pain shooting through his entire being. The beast jerked its head violently and Remus screamed louder than he ever had before, louder than he had ever known, louder than humanly possible, hoping against hope somebody would come save him. He felt as if his soul were being torn to shreds by this creature hovering above him, like nothing would be the same again.

A strange sort of cloud descended upon him, inviting him into darkness. He lingered just long enough to scream disjointedly one last time, before welcoming the darkness and falling blissfully into unconsciousness.

"There's nothing more we can do."

"The Healer's right, dear. It might just be better for him."

"No! How can you turn your back on him like this?"

Remus blearily opened his eyes. He was in a bright white room he didn't recognize, and three shadows stood around his bed, obscured by the blinding light.

"Remus!" his mother cried, swooping down and pulling him into a gentle hug that nevertheless caused him to wince in agony. "You want to stay with Mummy and Daddy, don't you?"

"Of course, Mummy. What's going on?" Tears began to prick at his eyes. Strange images flashed through his mind, and his heart began to pump faster.

"See?" Hope said, ignoring her son's question and turning back to Lyall and the Healer. "He wants to stay."

Lyall shook his head exasperatedly. "He doesn't understand."

"He wants to stay," she repeated. "He should be allowed to."

"Your wife is right, Mr. Lupin," the Healer said. "It is ultimately the boy's decision."

"But if he knew . . ."

"Then why don't you explain it to him? I'll be just outside."

The Healer stepped out of the room as Lyall came to sit by Remus' bedside. "Do you know what attacked you, son?" he asked in a soft voice.

Remus involuntarily reached for his bandaged shoulder, and the tears flowed over his eyes. Slowly, he shook his head.

"It was a werewolf. You know what that is, right?"

Remus nodded. He remembered the stories his father used to tell him: vicious beasts that attacked defenseless villages until the valiant hero showed up to save the day.

"The werewolf bit you. Do you know what that means?"

He hesitated, and then shook his head.

"Remus," his father gulped, "you're a werewolf."

Remus crinkled his brow in confusion. Werewolves were said to be crazy monsters, always craving human flesh, but he didn't feel like that. He felt like the same boy as before, just in a lot of pain and probably with a new scar on his shoulder.

"You still want to stay, don't you?" Lyall asked gently.

Remus quickly nodded, causing his father to sigh worriedly and his mother to burst into mixed tears of joy and aching. She hugged her son again, but immediately stopped when he yelped in pain. "Oh, son" she whispered, voice sweet like honey, "I love you. I will always love you no matter what."

"I love you, too," he replied, a bit confused, just as the Healer came back to give him a potion. She told him it was for dreamless sleep, no nightmares, and he gulped it down without complaint.

"We both love you no matter what," Lyall whispered, taking hold of his wife's hand.

"Mmhm," Remus muttered tiredly and rolled over. He pulled the sheets tightly around him and closed his watery eyes, not knowing his life would never be the same again.


	2. Coming Home

**Coming Back—5 years old**

"Eat something, Remus," Lyall begged, pushing the plate ever closer to his son.

"I'm not hungry," the boy muttered, clutching his aching stomach.

"Eat. Now," his father commanded, a fierce, almost desperate, glint in his eye.

"No!" Remus whined, clutching his ears as if his father's words were physically hurting him.

"Lyall, leave him alone!" cried Hope, speaking for the first time that day.

Lyall sighed and stood up, beckoning his wife to follow. "You better have eaten something by the time we come back," he added before exiting the room.

"What's this all about?" Hope asked the second the door closed behind her.

"He needs his strength," Lyall muttered, eyes locked on the closed door as if he might be able to see what was happening on the other side.

"But why? Why does he need his strength? Won't that only make it worse tonight?"

He shook his head slowly. "The transformation is very bad," he started in a monotone, "and very hard, especially on children. Very few survive the first night . . ."

It took a moment for his words to sink in. After a few silent moments, Hope's eyes started watering, but she pushed the tears down. "I don't want him to die . . ."

"And neither do I. But if he doesn't eat, I'm worried he won't have enough strength to make it through."

"Then we'll make him eat," she responded determinedly, and pushed the door back open.

The two walked into the kitchen together, determined to make their son eat his breakfast. Once inside, however, they saw the small boy slumped onto the table, fast asleep, his plate pushed off to the side.

Tears gently rolled down Hope's rosy cheeks, causing Lyall to sigh. He bent down and carefully scooped Remus up into his arms.

"There's still lunch and dinner," he assured his wife as he carried his son back to his bedroom.

Around noon, Remus quietly woke from his slumber. Hope stood in his doorway, trying her hardest to maintain her composure. She saw him wince slightly and rub his forehead in an attempt to rid a headache. He shifted as though he wanted to sit up, and then gasped sharply in pain and lay back down. Hope allowed a single tear to escape from her watery eyes before clearing her throat and smiling shakily.

"Time for lunch, sweetie," she called in a sickly sweet voice.

"M'not hungry," the small boy mumbled into his sheets.

"You must be. You didn't eat any breakfast," she replied, crossing the room in three long strides. She placed her gentle arms around her son and picked him up. Hope carried him out of the room and into the kitchen. She set him down in the nearest chair, and his father pushed a sandwich towards him. 

"Eat up," Lyall said with the same voice his wife had used, taking a bite of his own sandwich.

"I don't wanna," Remus whined, trying to squirm out of his chair. He gasped loudly in pain again as his elbow caught the edge of the table

"Now, Remus," his mother started, "listen to your father and eat."

The small boy sighed. He looked like a defeated warrior with the knowledge of a hopeless battle. He picked up the sandwich and took a bite, twisting up his face and acting as if he was about to be sick.

He did, however, manage to force it down, for his parents' sake. The moment he finished his sandwich, Remus wearily propped his head in his palm, eyelids drooping ominously.

"Can I go to bed now?" he said in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

Hope bit her lip anxiously and glanced towards her husband, looking for an answer.

"Sure. C'mon."

Lyall rose from his seat and helped Remus stand. The boy swayed dangerously, so Lyall just picked him up and carried him out. He was fast asleep before they even made it out the door.

"Why is he so tired?" Hope asked the moment her husband returned. She felt her eyes watering again, but took a deep breath and forced herself to focus on Lyall's answer.

He ran a shaky hand over his face. "It's like I said before—this whole ordeal is very difficult the first few months, and he's just a little boy. He must feel like hell right now . . . ."

Hope put up one last failing struggle against her tears before collapsing into a chair and sobbing for her miserable son.

Lyall carried Remus into the kitchen for supper a couple of hours later. Remus eyes remained half-closed during all of supper, as if part of him was still asleep in his bed.

Every few minutes, Hope would throw an anxious glance towards the window, watching the sun slowly sink towards the horizon. As supper slowly dragged to a close, Hope realized for the first time that day she was scared. She didn't know if she would ever see her son again after that evening. As the thought struck her, she started crying again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus give her a curious look, but she didn't have the heart to choke out an explanation through her tears.

Remus shoved aside his half-eaten chicken, causing Hope to choke slightly, wondering if he had enough strength for tonight. She wished she could force him to eat more until she was positive he'd had enough, but she knew that wasn't an option.

"Can I go back to bed now?" Remus asked, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.

Lyall shook his head. "Come with me," he said grimly and helped Remus out of the kitchen and to a spare bedroom. Hope followed close behind, wiping her damp cheeks on her sleeve as she went.

Inside the small room, all the furniture was removed and the few pictures had been taken down. "You'll be staying here tonight," Lyall said in a solemn voice that told Hope all too well that he feared what tonight's outcome might be as much as she did. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, and a yearning for her son came upon her.

"Why?" Remus asked, but before anyone could answer, Hope flung herself onto her only son.

"Come back to me," she whispered softly amid her fresh sobs.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Remus cried, confused.

"Just come back to me safe tomorrow," she repeated, sobbing harder than ever. She squeezed tighter, trying to force all her love into that one hug and silently praying this wouldn't their last embrace.

"Mommy? What's wrong?" the small boy said, distressed.

"Promise."

"I-I will. I will come back, I promise."

Hope gave a tiny whimper. She knew her son was just trying to comfort her, but she hoped more than anything he would stick to his word. She was about to say more when he suddenly went rigid and gave a heart-rending scream.

"Remus!" Hope cried, clinging tighter to her son as though she could protect him. She didn't want to lose him quite yet to a world he may never return from.

Lyall crossed the room in two strides and gently tried to pry her away as Remus gave another cry of pain. Hope struggled slightly, but knew her husband was right. In a few minutes, her polite, adorable, sweet, five-year-old son would be a beast that could and would kill her in a heartbeat. She faltered slightly, but Lyall kept a sturdy hand on her should as he steered towards the door.

"Don't leave me, mommy!" Remus screamed as she was pulled out of the room.

She took an involuntary step back into the room at her son's outburst, but Lyall pushed her back roughly and reached for the door knob.

"Come back to me," she repeated one last time before the door swung shut.

Hope stood there stunned for a few moments, staring at the closed door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lyall pull out his wand. He cast a charm on the room that cut off Remus' next tortured scream. Complete silence filled the hall, the last sign of her son being alive gone by her husband's magic. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing loudly. Lyall knelt down beside her and put his arm around her in a comforting fashion, but it didn't help. They sat there a little longer, wondering if they would ever see their son again.

As it neared midnight, Hope finally hiccoughed into silence, tears still rolling down her cheeks. Lyall gently helped her up. Together, they walked to their bedroom.

No one slept that night. Not while their son went through who knew what kind of torture in the next room. Lyall paced the bedroom to burn off restless energy while Hope gazed out the window as the cause of her son's torture slowly sank towards the horizon.

As soon as the last sliver of moon disappeared, Hope dragged her husband across the hall. She crossed all her fingers as Lyall carefully opened the door and lifted his silencing charm.

Fresh screams immediately broke out, meaning their son had survived. A wave of relief washed over Hope. She poked her head into the room, and stopped dead in her tracks, all traces of a smile gone. She watched, sickened, as long claws slowly shaped back into human fingernails, wiry hairs shrunk back into skin, and a pointy snout softened into her son's human nose. The moment the transformation was complete, Remus slumped over and became deathly silent.

Hope dashed over and seized her motionless son tightly. She squeezed him close to her chest, relief filling her again when she felt his steady breathing.

"C'mon," Lyall said gently. "We need to get him to St. Mungo's."

Hope nodded and carefully let go of her son. Lyall bent down and scooped him up.

"He'll be alright. I promise," he whispered before turning on the spot and disappearing.

Down in the living room, Hope began to pace feverishly. Her husband had been gone for three hours, and she had no way to contact him. All she could do was stay home and worry. She sank into the nearest chair. Was her son even alive still? Shuddering slightly, she thought of one of the last things she saw before they left. Hope would never forget that image of her son, long grotesque claws slowly shrinking back into his small hand.

She gulped loudly, glad no one was around. She didn't want her only child to suffer like this. She wasn't completely sure at first how much this would impact their lives, but Lyall had done a good job explaining it that dreadful day at the hospital . . .

She stood up angrily and began pacing again. Hope loved her husband, but this was really all his fault. He was the one who technically did this to Remus. He doomed a five-year-old for the rest of his life . . . if he was even still alive, that is. There was still no word on her son's condition. She hated not being included in things.

She was about to sink wearily back into her chair when a crash sounded from the next room. Hope dashed towards the sound, unsure of what she could possibly do to an intruder.

Before she had even entered the room fully, however, she heard a gleeful cry of "Mommy!" Remus dashed up and gave her a huge hug, Lyall smiling gently in the background.

Hope returned the hug, trying to ignore the texture of the bandages beneath his shirt. Tears streaked down her cheeks as Remus whispered, "See, mommy? I came back to you."

"You sure did," she whispered back, tears of joy streaking down her cheeks. She clung on tighter, and she felt Remus return the pressure. "You came back home."

Remus said "I'll never leave again. I promise."

And Hope's heart broke in two, because it was an oath he would never be able to keep.


	3. Pigs and Wolves

**Pigs and Wolves- Five Years Old**

The sound of pounding feet caused Lyall to pause in writing. He turned in his chair just in time to see Remus fly past, arms clutched around his stomach, and dash into the bathroom.

A slight crease appeared between his eyebrows. He could never even imagine what his son was going through right now, the pain he undeservingly felt once a month. After all, it was entirely Lyall's fault; he just had to open his stupid mouth and give his horribly prejudiced and unwelcomed opinion in front of one of the most wicked and ruthless men known to wizard kind . . . and now his own son had to pay the price.

With a long yawn and a heart of lead, Lyall laid down his quill and stood up. As he walked through the house, he strained his ears for any more noise from his son, but the house had suddenly and ominously fell silent. With a slight shudder, he pushed open the kitchen door.

Hope stood in middle of the room, a weary, distant look in her eyes. A pan of eggs tilted dangerously in her limp grasp; Lyall rushed forward and gently pulled it out of her hand, setting it safely down on the table instead. The brief contact seemed to snap Hope out of her reverie.

"Hello, dear," she said softly as Lyall pulled her into a tight embrace.

He pushed back slightly in order to look her in the eye. "What's wrong?" he asked, though he had no need to.

The dismal expression flooded Hope's eyes again, but underneath the melancholy a fierce sorrow raged unseen. She whispered, "He doesn't understand."

Lyall didn't need to ask who she was talking about. He himself could barely comprehend the severity and hopelessness of Remus' situation, much less could the five-year-old. With a pang in his heart which burned like the powerful sting of a lightning bolt, he squeezed his wife close again, as if their love alone could protect them and their son from his circumstances. Hope returned the embrace, and after a moment her soft sobbing filled Lyall's ear.

Lyall wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, whether for hours or a few seconds. All he knew was that after a while, he heard the sound of the kitchen door opening with difficulty. Hope dashed forward instantly and Lyall turned to see Remus sway dangerously in the doorway. Luckily, Hope grabbed him the moment before he crashed to the floor.

A guilty lump rose in Lyall's throat, but he pushed it down with a hastily fabricated smile as his son's eyes met his. He crossed the room and helped his wife situate their son into the chair nearest the door. After Remus was propped up against the table, Hope wiped her cheeks on her sleeve, picked up the pan of eggs, and went back to making breakfast.

Lyall sat in his own seat and watched his son in silence for a few moments. The boy was a pale green, eyelids nearly closed, a fine layer of sweat shining on his forehead. A sad smile overpowering his silly grin, Lyall pulled out his wand, conjured up a cloth, and gently wiped the perspiration off of Remus' forehead.

Remus' eyes flew open. He had a half-crazed look in his eyes as he glanced wildly around for the source of contact. He found Lyall.

"Daddy, I don't feel good," he muttered quietly, desperately clinging on to the eye contact. Lyall felt the pleading green eyes pierce his soul.

"It'll be alright, Remus," he assured, though the words sounded empty before they even left his mouth.

Lyall racked his brain for something meaningful to say. However, before he could even begin his search, Hope set down a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. Spared from his arduous task, Lyall looked up and watched as his wife placed a nearly identical plate- though the portion was much smaller- in front of Remus. She kissed their son tenderly on his head and ruffled his hair, before grabbing a plate for herself and sitting down.

"Eat up," she declared cheerfully, though her smile was forced as well.

Lyall reached for his toast, his eyes never leaving his son. Remus seemed as if he'd rather do anything than listen to his mother at the moment, based on the scathing look he gave his eggs. Lyall, with yet another pang of guilt, set down his toast and cleared his throat.

"Come on, Remus, you heard your mother. Eat," he said. He knew he should probably be a little firmer with him, but he just didn't have the heart to scold a boy in such discomfort.

Remus locked eyes with his father again, a quiet desperation etched into his face, mingled with the look of pain. "Please, Daddy," the boy whispered. "I don't feel good."

"I understand," Lyall lied in that sickly sweet voice. When his son's expression didn't falter, he switched tactics. "Look, after breakfast, why don't I show you some magic? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

That got the boy's attention. He sat up straighter, sickness temporarily forgotten. "You mean it, Daddy?"

Lyall couldn't help but grin at Remus' genuine excitement. "Of course, Remus. Just- er- eat your breakfast first, alright?"

The smile slipped off Remus' face faster than you could say Quidditch. He stared bleakly at the plate before him. "Daddy, I- I can't . . . Can't I just eat half?"

"Of course!" Lyall blurted a bit too quickly. "Er- I mean- just try your best, Remus," he corrected, trying for a reassuring smile.

With a deep breath as though preparing himself for war, Remus hefted his fork and took the first bite. Lyall bit his lip to keep himself from crying out as the look of pain carved deeper into his son's face with each swallow. He wished desperately to make it stop, though he knew this was for the better. Remus would need his strength once again tonight. One look at his wife told Lyall she felt the same way. Hope had a trembling hand over her mouth, back firmly turned to her son so she wouldn't have to watch.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Remus took his last agonizing mouthful, clearing roughly half the plate. Lyall didn't have time to mutter even a word before the fork clattered to the table and Remus slumped forward, eyelids drooping closed.

Lyall leapt up and shook his son's shoulder lightly. "C'mon, Remus. Stay with us now."

"Can I go back to sleep?" Remus asked, blinking blearily up at Lyall.

"No. Don't you want to go outside- see some magic?"

Remus blinked more fiercely and yawned, stretching slightly. "Yeah, I do, Daddy. I'm not too tired, I promise! Let's go!"

He actually made to stand up, but all the color drained from his already pale face. Lyall gently helped him out of the chair and carried him to the back yard.

"C'mon, Daddy," Remus egged on, having been propped up on a rock.

Lyall smiled and pulled out his wand. A sly smile spread across his face as he waved it at a nearby tree, which shrunk to the size of a galleon and started hiccuping.

Remus laughed, coughing weakly afterwards. He smiled at his father, then requested, "Do the pig one!"

It was Lyall's turn to laugh. That one used to Remus' favorite. He waved his wand again, and the rock Remus was sitting upon turned into a great pink pig. The little boy laughed as he was led around the yard on the bewildered animal.

"Do the balloon one now!"

It continued on in this fashion for a while, Lyall filling in his own ideas when Remus ran out. He had just lifted a tickling charm off his son- who was still gasping and coughing amid his gales of laughter- when a commotion by the back door caused Lyall to look up. Hope came out into the back yard, a tottering pile of sandwiches precariously balanced on a platter in her hands. She set the plate down on a nearby table, handed a sandwich each to Remus and Lyall, then went over and hugged her husband.

"How's he doing?" she whispered in Lyall's ear.

"He's doing alright. Better than last month, at any rate," he replied, glancing over at Remus. The boy was picking at the crust of his sandwich, head at a curious angle; Lyall couldn't tell if he was listening or not.

Something brushed his cheek, almost as if Hope had nodded, as immediately after she murmured, "Yeah . . ."

Something wet hit Lyall's shoulder and he knew Hope had started crying again. He hugged her tightly to him and stroked her hair. "Don't cry," he whispered gently in her ear. "Be strong- for him."

She sniffed in reply, and gently pulled out of Lyall's grasp. She wiped her cheeks with her sleeve, glanced towards Remus, who was now taking a few hesitant bites, then turned back towards the house.

"Eat up," she called stuffily before disappearing around the door frame.

Remus looked up towards the place his mother had left, then over to his father. Lyall smiled in what he felt was an encouraging way, then took a bite of his own sandwich. "You better keep eating, Remus," he said once he had swallowed. "No more magic until you're done."

Remus shoved the last bite of the sandwich into his mouth in one hasty gulp. The moment he had swallowed, he yelled, "Do the pig one again, Daddy!"

Lyall smiled and pulled out his wand. "You sure do enjoy that one," he murmured while his son bounced around the back yard, once more astride a large pig.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of sparks, funny voices, and pigs. Before Lyall had even had time to gather his wits and prepare for the upcoming night, Hope stuck her head back out the door.

"Supper time! Come wash up you two!"

Supper passed in much the same fashion as breakfast. The table was silent as Lyall and Hope watched their son pick at his steak-and-kidney pie. Very slowly, he made his way through his supper, wincing between bites as though it were poison.

Remus swallowed his last bite, carefully trying to cover up his look of pain. "Can you do the pig one again?" he asked for the umpteenth time, rising out of his seat, though a pale look crossed his face.

This time, Lyall could not oblige. "Sorry, Remus," he muttered, trying not to betray his anxiety as his son sat down again and took a deep breath. "I think we're done for tonight."

Remus collapsed like a marionette with his strings cut. With a glum expression, he asked, "Well, what _are_ we going to do, then?"

Lyall gulped, and Hope quickly rose out of her chair. "I'll meet you upstairs," she muttered, nose already clogging up. Lyall saw her wipe her cheek before she even left the kitchen.

Remus watched her quizzically as she left the kitchen before turning back to Lyall and repeating his question.

"Er- follow me," Lyall answered, and helped his son out of the kitchen.

Lyall took the dreaded path towards that accursed bedroom, where he would lose his son once again to a world of chaos. The walk seemed to take hours, but eventually the door came into view at the end of the hallway.

Remus, who had been leaning heavily on Lyall the entire duration, suddenly straightened. "No. . . ." he whispered, panic filling his voice.

Lyall stopped, a sense of dread filling him. "What's wrong, Remus?" he asked, leaning down next to his son.

"Daddy, no," Remus repeated, looking his father in the eye. He had terror in his, competing with a mad pleading. "Don't make me go back in there. . . ."

Lyall closed his eyes. He had dreaded when this moment would come. "Remus, I'm sorry, but you have to."

"No!" Lyall opened his eyes to see tears running down Remus' face. "Daddy, please!"

"Remus . . ."

"Daddy, it _hurts_ in there! Don't make me go back!" He drew out the last syllable slightly as more tears leaked from his eyes.

Lyall knelt down and pulled Remus close. He wanted more than anything to stay like that and never let him endure his hell ever again, but a tiny part of him knew that couldn't happen- at least not this month. It was at that moment, however, he vowed to try as hard as he could to find a cure.

"Just today," Lyall whispered. "I won't make you after today."

"Daddy . . ."

"Remus, listen to me." The logical side of Lyall won out, and he let go and pulled back in order to look in his son's eyes. "You've got to. Believe me."

Something crossed through Remus eyes that hadn't been there before, and it beat out the helpless pleading (though the fear was still present). Slowly, he nodded, then coughed loudly as his face filled with pain and more tears streaked down his face.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Lyall whispered one last time before pulling Remus into that dreaded room, shutting the door, and silencing the area. A scream was cut off half way as the spell took effect.

Lyall walked into his bedroom completely drained. Hope hurriedly wiped her cheeks and glanced at her husband. "Dear?" she started, but Lyall just waved her off and crawled into bed, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

The night passed uneventfully, albeit slowly. Hope dashed from the room a few minutes before daybreak; Lyall didn't have the heart to hold her back. Once the sun peaked over the mountains, Lyall crawled out of bed to the small room. Strangely, his wife wasn't there, but he figured she went downstairs for something. He hesitated a few moments to make sure enough time had passed before lifting the silencing charm. He threw open the door to find Remus curled up in a ball, unconscious. He sighed as he crossed the room to pick him up. As he made to exit, Remus safely secured in his arms, the boy woke up and started crying.

"Daddy, my wrist hurts. . . ." He clutched it tightly to him and Lyall could tell it was broken. Though tears streaked his face, his son's voice remained quite even.

"I'll need to check you over, but if that's all that's broken, I might be able to heal you here," Lyall muttered, more to himself than the sobbing boy.

"Daddy. . . ."

"Yes, Remus?"

"I- I think I know. . . ." Remus had dropped his voice slightly.

Lyall paused and wrinkled his brow. "Know what?"

"This is going to happen next month, too, isn't it?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Lyall took a deep breath. "Yes, son."

"Will it go on forever and ever?"

Lyall paused a moment, trying to think of a response. "We'll find a cure, don't worry, Remus," he finally muttered.

Remus nodded as if he understood; Lyall didn't like seeing that level of understanding in such a young child.

"Look, Remus," Lyall started, setting his son on the ground for a moment, "why don't I heal that wrist for you?" He pulled out his wand and muttered an incantation which instantly corrected Remus' wrist. "Is that all? Does anything else hurt?"

HIs son nodded. "My head hurts, too. Behind my ear."

Lyall gently twisted his son's head to see a long, but not too deep, gash. "I've got a healing potion in my room. You can take it after you eat something."

"Daddy?" Remus said again.

"Yes, Remus?"

"Does Mummy know?"

Lyall didn't need to ask. "Yes, she does."

Remus bowed his head as his tears finally slowed. Lyall wanted to say something, anything, to comfort him, but the words got jumbled before they could get out. Instead, he managed to choke out, "Breakfast?"

Helping his son along, Lyall led the way to the kitchen. He smiled as he walked in; he had completely forgotten Hope had disappeared off early. Yet here she was, with a large banquet prepared.

"How do you feel, Remus?" she asked as he settled into his chair.

Remus shrugged, grimaced, and rubbed his eyes. "I'm tired. . . ."

Hope smiled, oblivious to the horrific information Remus had just learned. "Well, I prepared all your favorites," she said, gesturing around to the piles of food. "Help yourself."

With a glance at his wife, Lyall told her not to interrupt. He then focused back on Remus. "Look, I know this is tough to understand," he started while his son took a bite of his waffle, "but I'll find a way to make this stop, alright? You won't have to deal with this forever."

Remus nodded, but Lyall wasn't sure if he understood, let alone listened. His eyes were unfocused and he was trying to concentrate on the food in front of him rather than his father. Eventually, Remus looked up again to his father with one question on his mind:

"Will you show me that pig spell again?"


End file.
